Genesis of the Legendary Witch
by Self Insert
Summary: "Eva, a truly extraordinary witch, entered into a contract with the legendary dark knight..." This is the beginning of her story. Rated T for some mention of unsavory happenings.
1. Sparda's Awakening

Hello again!

It seems that my muse (perhaps a witch) would just not shut up until I wrote this down. Anyway, this is my headcanon for how the worlds of Devil May Cry and Bayonetta actually intersect. I'm not sure if this story is good. I do my best to get rid of grammar errors but I don't have a beta, so please point anything out.

I have a few questions at the end of the fic as an exercise for the reader. Please leave your answers as reviews if you please. Thank you!

* * *

If there was a single word that could describe the witch named Eva, it was blood-red.

Other witches in her time were perfectly capable of calling men and women into bed with their wiles, and when they had no more arms to protect them or places to run, the witch would snap their necks with deft, practiced hands. More experienced witches knew of secrets from foreign lands, and would simply grab the poor man's neck vertebra from behind and twist it out of place with magically-reinforced strength. Even those who were merely starting out as apprentices knew how to sneak a stiletto into the bedroom and quietly puncture the victim's lungs so that they could not shout for help. This too had the advantage of keeping the scene relatively blood-free.

Eva was not like that. Clad in her bright red clothes and with long, platinum blonde hair, she stood out from the rest of the apprentice witches in her group who were wearing the customary black and kept their hair hidden from others. It was as if she did everything to intimidate other people. When she was tasked to assassinate a senator she had brought him to his deathbed and tore out the man's throat with her bare hands, her fingers penetrating the skin and going behind the windpipe as easily as a massage. The man had no time to scream, and she left through the open window, not turning into an animal form as was the custom when fleeing from a scene of bloodshed. When she was scolded by her superiors for this shoddy work, her only flippant reply was "I got the job done, right?"

That really was the problem with Eva, thought Nevan, one of her fellow apprentices-in-training. She did as she was told but never in the way that was expected of her. She couldn't get kicked out of training seeing as she was diligent and skilled enough to do everything that was expected from a young witch in training. She was abrasive towards her other sisters in doom – she knew how to do things correctly, like drawing one's own blood with their own knives, and was willing to teach it to others, but would be seen sighing in frustration whenever someone just didn't get it. She was a very passionate person indeed, but the problem with her was that she absolutely refused to learn the language of the angels and demons. How was Eva supposed to summon an Infernal if she couldn't even talk to them?

She sipped her wine, a swilled old drink that was almost as bad as making love in a canoe. She had to drink some because she honestly did not feel completely ready for their ordeal later. That was the day that they were to make their first contracts with the infernal beings that would choose them and stay with them until they died. Of course, when they inevitably died, they would be dragged down to Inferno, kicking and screaming until who knows what happens to them in the abyss below. Still, it would definitely be a fun ride. The current Left Eye of the World was from Scotland and she had been teaching other witches for such a long time, it seemed that every witch around had passed through her classes at least once. That witch may have been strict in class, but Nevan knew nobody else who was capable of beating so many angels that they had stopped sending them after her, having reached an understanding that this witch was Not To Be Fucked With.

It was thanks to the Roman Empire that both the Lumen and the Umbra were starting to consolidate their power in the heart of Europe, with some prodding from the forces of Paradiso and Inferno. Witches and Sages from all over the world had heard of Rome and had started to flock to it in the hopes of learning new things to further their craft, to teach and be taught, and to trade goods. It was through this convention of cultures that one of the most powerful weapons in the Umbran arsenal was developed. Nevan had heard of this weapon and how it could spill a man's blood and viscera from several paces away, but most of the information about this weapon was kept a secret except to actual Umbran Sisters.

She had much to learn, actually, and she knew that she had only tasted but a cup of water from the river of what real witches should be able to do. Real witches, those with actual contracts to Infernals, were capable of so much more than simple tricks like assassination – they could actually fight angels without fear, though the gossip she had heard said that the new weapon would let even novices and apprentices fight angels with ease. And while she was one of the few among her peers who were already capable of triggering Witch Time, she was also developing a few tricks of her own that she had not told anyone about.

She finished her wine and walked off with careful, practiced steps, as expected of an Umbra Witch. She headed to her shared bedroom to further finish her contract with whom she hoped to summon. The contract had to be extremely precisely worded. If the contract was too loose on the Infernal, the witch would have no control. If the contract was too loose on the witch's part, the Infernal would take offense that the witch seemed to hold herself more important than them, and would likely kill them on the spot. Nevan had seen apprentice witches before her fail at that, and be dragged off to Inferno without becoming a full-fledged witch. If the contract was too tight on either of them, then of course liberties would be limited and in the end, it would be useless. This was so important that whole classes were taught to apprentices and séances held with potential Infernals just to ensure that they would be able to write a proper contract with their desired Infernal easily.

She also had to finish enchanting her Umbran Watch so that time would stop for her body and she would never age afterwards. These were a witch's most important possessions. She had heard of the Old Sybil of Cumae, who had had her watch stolen, and had withered away to the point that she was still technically alive but what remained of her body was kept away in a jar, never to be opened again, only wishing for the sweet release of death. To think that the woman would desire to be taken to Inferno than to live out their life was a terrible thought to Nevan. When she had finished inscribing her birthday on her watch, she went to sleep to wait for the ceremony.

Meanwhile, the girl in red was also finishing her contract in her own room. Written in plain Latin instead of the language of angels and demons, the advantages of it were simple to her. She was always a person direct to the point, and Latin was a far easier language for her to use, being her native tongue. Her command of written Latin was like a surgical knife; extremely precise and omitting needless words to prevent complications further down the line. She knew that she would be extremely unlikely to summon a high-ranking Infernal because they all preferred their own language, but she would rather have one who she could get along with from the very start.

As for her own watch, she had had one from her childhood. The last memory she had of her parents was them transfiguring a large yellow and blue object into a small, silver necklace amulet. She had turned this into her own watch and was doing the finishing touch by adding a ruby the size of a pea to the center. Inscribing her own birthday onto it – _a.d. III Id. Sep._ – she finished, and went off to sleep after healing the wound she had made to draw blood for her contract.

…

Eva awoke to silence. Her room was well-lit by the full moon shining outside her window, touching her, and making it look like her skin glowed with an unearthly light. She put on her special silk white gloves with black border trim and her best red clothing carefully, making sure that her nails did not snag on any part of it. The special shade of scarlet made her look even more like a lady of blood, the sort that gushed from deep, fatal wounds. While most of the time she wore cheap red clothes, this one was made with expensive dyes from what would later be called the Americas. When freshly applied to cloth, the red was dull, somewhat like dust, but it would later brighten to the point where it almost glowed, as if it were the reverse of a blood stain drying. She carried her long stiletto knife as well, for the spilling of blood when the contract was to be read and performed in the ceremony.

She had made her clothes herself from materials she had bartered with traveling witches coming to Rome. They had given her the silk, thread, and dye in exchange for a sample of the rare and valuable sylphium, which had died out in the wild. She herself had no use for it besides for trading, and the price of sylphium had gone up so high that some said that it was worth its weight in silver. She managed to amass a small fortune after finding a way to cultivate it outside of its natural habitat. This of course was kept secret from her fellow trainees, but then again, all of them hid a few secrets from each other.

It was a short travel to where the ceremony would take place. Even though the Lumen Sages knew where the witches would gather to hold this annually, the mutually assured destruction between the gathered populations of the two clans ensured that the sanctity of their ceremonies would not be disturbed by the other party. Eva walked along the moonlit path, to others a very faint dust trail, but to her vision positively shining like silver. The distinctive tracks of women in heels indicated that other witches had already used this path. Eva knew that there were others but this was the one convenient to her, and she really did not want to encounter anyone else unless it was important. Tonight would be one of the greatest nights in her life, after all.

The trail stopped at a large building, resembling a solid cube of metal several meters high with no visible entrance. The building seemed to have been completely new. No cracks were on the wall, except for brick-like patterns of lines that decorated its exterior. On the upper part of the wall that Eva was facing was a small, golden sphere. In front of the building were several other witches-in-training who were walking around, trying to find the entrance. She made her way over to the wall where the tracks stopped, right underneath the globe, and then leaned against the wall, observing everyone else who was there. There were few witch apprentices present in this batch: including herself, she counted a total of seven. Now wasn't that just a magic number, she thought. Apprentices were not allowed to undergo this final ritual until their teachers and superiors deemed them capable of handling the magical strain of summoning for the first time.

She saw Nevan approaching her, all tidied up for her big night. The ceremony could in fact be compared to a prom night, where all the girls try to dress better than everyone else according to their means. Nevan had taken to wearing something black (as usual, noted Eva – she always wore black to accent her extremely pale skin). Her long red hair was wavy and looked smooth to the touch.

"How are you doing?" said Nevan. Eva gave her a good look, taking in all of the detail in her clothing. Upon looking harder, she saw bat motifs in her clothes, which were actually more of a deep, dark shade of violet. Eva wondered where she got those clothes – violet was a very hard color to come by, even harder than her own red attire.

"Fine, thank you for asking," said Eva, trying to remain polite for once. "Your dress is nice. The bats fit you."

"And your hair is all over the place, as usual," Nevan said with a smile on her face; the kind that doesn't reach the eyes. "I know we need it to summon our friends from below but really, you can grow it out magically, can't you?"

For once she was trying to be polite, so let it not be said that she fired the first shot, Eva thought. She smiled as well, like someone smiles when they're about to crush a cockroach but they don't want to look mad. "At least my legs aren't all over the place."

Nevan wasn't going to lose composure with that, so she just smiled back and walked away.

There was polite and hushed talking between other witches as well, much like a dinner party held in secret. Some of the witches were visibly nervous, doing things like looking at their nails, making sure that their dresses were perfect, pacing around, and staring off into space, lost in their thoughts. Eva yawned. This should be easy for her.

She didn't have to wait much longer. When the full moon was directly above them, another witch stepped up to the wall. Eva recognized her as Medea, a very powerful witch whose skills with potions were well-known. Her dark, glossy hair flew in an unfelt wind, and her clothes clung to her figure tightly from the front, revealing all the curves of her body leaving little to the imagination. Eva suspected that she was actually wearing no clothes, instead going in the battle attire of the Umbra, but she knew better than to ask. It was only really in emergencies where one could not find proper clothes to put on that one should resort to using it after all.

"Umbran sisters," Medea called out in a loud, clear voice. Silence descended over everyone as they all paid attention to her. "It is my honor to conduct the ceremony where you, apprentices, turn from girls into women." Medea stepped forward to where Eva was, and Eva stepped aside, knowing what would happen next. "After tonight," she continued, "you will be recognized as full members of the Umbra Witches, sharing the same doom as us all. We expect that you have bonded with each other through all of the tasks and hardships that you have gone through. After tonight, it will be your duty to watch each other's backs. You all know what befalls a witch when she dies."

Medea activated a small spell, empowered by the moonlight. She placed her foot on the wall – and then her other foot. She continued walking up the wall. "While our fate is inevitable, it is your duty as sisters to look out for each other. Do not let your sisters fall." Medea stopped at a spherical marking on the side of the wall. She turned to face everyone who was looking up at her.

"Now, without further ado, let us commence. _ARGEDCO!_ " Medea cried out, and stomped her foot into the wall. Eva saw a weapon attached to her foot give off a flash like lightning. Why hadn't she noticed it before, she wondered. Her hair flew out, glowing with an ethereal purple, as a gigantic foot (wearing heels, Eva saw, and quietly laughed to herself) made of hair appeared and destroyed the wall she stood on.

The witches-in-training made sounds of awe as the wall – no, the whole building – collapsed into gold and silver bricks, only to reassemble itself into a circle around the witches gathered. The bricks flew into formation, becoming a dome that enclosed the witches gathered. It was large – one could have fit several orgies in that dome and still have had space for the musicians to play and the cooks to make more food for the decadents. The dome still had an opening at the top, allowing the moonlight to flow into the room, giving all of the witches the necessary magical boost to call the attention of their respective contracts. This much space was necessary to summon the large demons that most preferred to have as their contracts.

Medea landed in the middle of the dome gracefully, as butterfly wings had slowed her descent. It was no casual feat to be able to perform a Wicked Weave like that without being exhausted, which showed that this woman had high levels of magical power. It was rare to see witches capable of summoning Wicked Weaves from out of nowhere without showing any signs of strain. Medea wasn't even breathing hard – it was just as natural to her as walking or eating, it seemed, and it was this kind of witch that Eva aimed to be.

"Tonight is the night that you will summon for the first time," Medea said. Her voice, though soft, had a booming quality to it, especially because all of the other witches were in silent awe of what they had just seen. Perhaps the dome also helped her project her voice to the seven other witches in the dome. "And with practice and skill, you will be able to do what I just did with ease."

Medea walked over to each of the witches and handed them each a piece of chalk as long as her finger. Eva held hers in her gloved hand and was pleased that no chalk dust came off in her expensive glove. Once Medea had given them each a piece of chalk, she continued speaking.

"This is most likely the only time you will ever need to write down a summoning sigil by hand, so I expect it to be perfect. Any form of imperfection is likely to offend your contractor and we will have no body to bury if that is the case. After this, it will be the last time you are physically tired, barring an actual fight with angels or some such." The apprentices knew what to do after some guidance from Medea. She recited their names in the order that they were going to summon their Infernal contract. The witches gathered moved to the edge of the dome, as summoners needed lots of space to be able to work.

Even though the circles were large affairs – about ten to twenty meters in diameter, with intricate geometric patterns and Infernal lettering to be inscribed – the first witch was able to do it in the span of ten minutes. Eva noted that it meant she had practiced drawing the circle, and this girl, like her, had ambition. Then again, what woman would willingly sell her soul if they didn't have something driving them for it even unto desperation? Large, complex circles were often used to summon especially powerful beings. After drawing the circle, the girl walked briskly to the edge of the circle, taking care not to muss up the chalk on the ground. She faced the circle and opened the papyrus upon which was written the terms for her eternal soul.

Eva tuned out the speech of the contract. In addition to being in the language of angels and demons (which she understood just fine – she just disliked ever speaking it) the contract also had too many florid descriptions and titles meant to flatter the one it was being offered to. Of course, she understood why it was the case. For some Infernals, this was merely a formality, but for some others, they took it very seriously, somewhat like the difference between a layman and a lawyer when reading the Terms and Conditions of any agreement. In addition, as had been emphasized before, if the invoked Infernal did not like the terms and conditions, they could simply kill the poor witch on the spot, which would count as a rejection – and the soul would be theirs to take as well. It was a poor situation that witches were in, but it was how it was. She hadn't skipped school the day they taught basic negotiation skills – the Infernal was in the position of strength, not them, and so they had to sweeten the deal as much as possible. All witches really had to offer Infernals was their soul – and if the witch seemed particularly strong, the promise of the blood of angels spilled by their hands. Some women were outright rejected by matured witches from the prospect of becoming an Umbra Witch because they would have had nothing to offer.

Eva's train of thought was interrupted by a gigantic head coming out of the hole, producing a very high pitched sound that turned out to be the Infernal's yawn. The sweet scent of burning rose incense emanated from its mouth, presumably to drown out a very strong scent of iron (likely blood, thought Eva). A hand shot up from the side of the circle to rest beside the witch. Her stance had frozen up, appearing to look brave, but if one looked closer they would be able to see her knees shivering. The witch who was doing the contract gave the Infernal the vellum scroll, which the demon held for the witch. The witch cut her left hand with the small knife she held in her other hand and dipped a small nibbed stylus into the wound to write her signature onto the papyris document. The demon nodded, rolled up the vellum, burnt it, and spoke in her tongue: "Your soul is ours, and my power is yours – so shall it be to the day you die. Madama Hel commands it to be so."

The demon went back into the portal to Inferno and it closed up. The witch managed to give out a small, faint smile, before swooning. Like a flash, Medea had gone behind the witch to catch her as she fell down, and gently laid her on the ground, beside the wall of the dome. The chalk circle that was the portal had vanished as well, leaving nothing but the ground that was there before the ritual was even started.

"We welcome our new Umbran Witch, Lily, sister in delight and in doom," Medea prayed before the unconscious body of the new witch. "May her life be long and may she find happiness before the abyss takes us all."

"So be it," all of the remaining apprentices replied.

The room was quickly cleared of the debris from the first contract, and the succeeding witches did their own contracts just as quickly, some taking it better than others. Nevan in particular did not faint after she had called a demon named Madama Astrape, even experimenting with her newfound lightning powers granted by her contract. She seemed genuinely pleased and kept creating arcs of lightning between her hands in joy as Eva drew her contract sigil on the ground.

Medea was bemused and alarmed by how small Eva's contract circle seemed to be. The outermost diameter was at most two meters wide. The circle itself held only two squares, rotated so that they formed an eight-point star. Once Eva was finished, Medea could not contain her curiosity any further, and approached her before she could begin.

"Eva, child," she said, in the tone used by mothers to assure their children that even if they're doing something wrong, it's going to be okay, and there would be hugs and sweets after they put down the fork and step away from the electric socket, "what are you doing?"

"This is my summoning circle!" she replied brightly, indeed just like a child who was making "art" of a beautiful wallpaper by taking crayons and imagination to it.

Medea turned stern. "You do realize that this is a highly non-specific portal to Inferno that you are making, yes?"

"Mhm," replied Eva. She was going over her contract one last time, Medea noticed, to make sure that there were no errors, as well as to mentally rehearse it so that there would be no mistakes in her speech.

"And you realize that virtually any Infernal could come out of it, correct?" Medea said with her right eyebrow raised.

"Actually," Eva replied, and for the first time ever Medea saw her eye to eye. "I know for a fact that my Infernal will come out of this summoning circle, and I am willing to bet my life on it." Reflected in her eyes were Eva's resolve and absolute certainty. Medea faltered, unsure whether this was Eva being a brave, revolutionary genius who simply did not know how to put her findings into words, or an absolute idiot who was going to get them all killed.

Medea had heard of this problem child. She was indeed fully capable of things but always did it in an unorthodox way, often involving collateral damage. As supervisor of this ceremony, she had to make sure that all of the witches under this ceremony would be as safe as possible. For the purposes of Eva being here, the Umbran council had decided to let her use one of the weapons developed for use of emergency – the first of their kind in the human world. Named North, South, East, and West, in honor of the collaboration between witches of all parts of the earth, these were of a new class of weapon. These magical arms fired projectiles at breakneck speed, so that it almost always required Witch Time (or Light Speed in the case of the Lumen) to evade – the very first human firearms. She had been given the piece West in case something unsavory wishing to savor the witches came out of the portal. Not even angels or demons could withstand sustained fire from these weapons.

She supposed that it was safe, and that if ever, at the very least Nevan was alert and could transport her unconscious sisters in doom should a belligerent demon emerge while she fought it. She sighed.

"Alright, Eva," she said. "It is your contract and I would not want to get between you and yours. Just take care." She took a deep breath and walked with steady steps to the edge of the dome, opposite of the summoning circle and Eva. If she had to shoot something coming out of it, she wouldn't want to hit the poor fool after all.

The moonlight shone on Eva and her summoning circle, making it look like she was wearing a dress freshly stained with so much glistening blood. She looked around and behind her to make sure that it was clear of anyone who might get hurt, and once she was sure, she began.

 _Come forth; my soul is yours._

And Eva placed her contract on the ground, took off her left glove and, as if she had done it a million times before, punctured her left pinky. The dark blood flowed freely from it and she dipped a feather (to the bemusement of Medea and Nevan – but then again they didn't know what a quill was yet) into her blood. With the loaded quill, she wrote her signature into the paper.

A blank check.

…

Because she had addressed the contract and the summoning circle to nobody in particular, everyone in Inferno heard it – and what a voice of the soul it was. To a demon the voice of this one promised power beyond anything that they had scarce seen before. And like a crack in a dam, all of them tried to rush out of it to claim what was essentially a free, beautiful, and powerful witch soul. Demons walked over each other to try and climb out of this window to the mortal world. They were crabs in a barrel, dragging each other down to try to reach the top; all squabbled to reach what for them was a futile goal.

However, it was not to be. The voice had stirred a demon deep in meditation, kneeling in front of his sword buried hilt-first in the ground, lost in thought of the failures of his past. He had failed his duty and was cast down to hell millennia ago, failed to kill the interloper that threatened Heaven. He had seen the injustices dealt by people he used to call his brethren after they had been cast out of Heaven too – torturing human souls, people they were once sworn to protect. "We are demons now, you fool, and this is what demons do!" one of them spat in his face once as this demon violated a fallen witch in front of him, ignoring the screams and pleas for relief as he stood there, powerless. He had seen his fellow fallen angels mutilated beyond belief by other, more cruel demons – some had their faces melted off with acid; some of his fellow former archangels had had their plate armor fused into their skin in eternal agony; some were wounded all over the body so much that it was less of skin and more of bands and lines of scars covering them. He himself had had his feathered wings torn out from his back by his former students, and they grew back as bat wings. He bore all of these without harming anyone else because if there was a word to describe this fallen angel, it was regret - and if there was an emotion he felt when he heard Eva's voice calling out to him, it was gratitude at a second chance.

He picked up his sword from in front of him, and went to town.

The first demon he met there was a low-ranking nameless Assault. "Get in line, you piece of shit!" it sneered in sarcasm. With an empty heart, with no passion of any sort, he moved behind it so fast that the Assault only managed to think alarmed before he was beheaded.

Down in Hell it was kill or be killed – the powerful ones commanded weaker demons and if their orders were defied they would be eaten alive to set an example. If one was just too weak and a subordinate managed to kill them, then of course they would lose their rank and they would be succeeded by their killer. That was just the way it was.

However, our particular fallen angel here had managed to do a meteoric rise through the ranks before in Heaven – why could he not do the same here? Of course, everyone noticed "the worthless trash failure of a knight" killing another demon, and rejected this upset in the status quo.

Malice demons coordinated the attack against him, empowering and healing the demons attacking him in the front, while other demons took advantage of the situation and tried to reach the window that Eva had created while everyone else was distracted. The fallen angel cut through these enemies with his sword as if they weren't even there. The phrase "a hot knife through butter" does not do it justice. It was more like cutting through darkness with a torch. With every demon fallen at his blade, he felt some of his old strength returning to him – as if he were regaining his angel's wings, and this filled him with determination. Every wound he sustained from the enemies attacking him seemed to heal when he killed more demons, but he did feel a slight pang in his heart because most of these were his comrades-in-arms back when they were all angels. It wasn't enough to stop him, and in battle, hesitation is death. He filled himself with memories of the crimes that they had committed when they fell, and steeled himself as hard as his own blade.

Slash, and Eselon fell for the crime of cruelty – he had held sinners' faces in a swirling bowl of liquid fire.

Pierce, and Rochamorn stopped in his tracks as his heart gave out – she had wiled far too many witches and devoured their souls without giving back even a finger's help.

Sever, and Horan's head fell off from his shoulders – he had executed too many of his followers for disobeying impossible commands.

And with many more like that, after what seemed an eternity to the swordsman, nobody was left to fight him. The ones scrabbling to reach the window to Eva had all died fighting each other to get there. This exhausted crab walked over the corpses of the other crabs in the barrel, and then out of it, covered in the blood of his enemies, some of it already scabbing and clotting over him like glittering jewels. He spread his wings and flew up into the portal, sword-point first, as the moonlight fell on him and he breathed fresh air once more.

…

"What are you thinking?" Medea shouted. "Are you insane?"

"Don't worry!" Eva shouted back. "I know what I'm doing!" Her eyes gleamed with anticipation for what would come crawling out from Inferno. The girl apparently enjoyed chaos, because she looked into the pit that was emitting demonic screams of agony, the sound of swords cutting through flesh, and the shouts of commanders calling for order amidst the bedlam of battle.

Nevan had always thought Eva was unorthodox, to the point of being strange, but now she saw it plain – the woman was just insane. She had heard of witches going insane after too long, with delusions of grandeur, taking on angels on their own and dying needlessly brutal deaths to be torn apart once more in Inferno. What had happened to Eva that she was like that?

Medea marched over, weapon drawn, pointed at the pit. "Have you lost your mind? Who knows what will come out of that pit?" There was no reasoning with her. "Nevan!" she shouted. "Get your sisters to a safe place!"

"How?" Nevan shouted back. The dome was closed off except for the top, which still poured moonlight into the pit.

"Kick the dome open with Wicked Weaves! It will reassemble into the cube building once you have struck it enough. And call for help!" Medea could not afford to take her eyes off of Eva in case the girl did something particularly nasty. _Technically_ , she had not done anything wrong yet, and Medea would be unjustified to eliminate this threat no matter how necessary she felt it would be.

Thunder and lightning from Nevan's Wicked Weaves, as well as the pounding that they made when they struck the walls, added to the noise from the pit. Medea wanted to rest her head in her palms. This much noise was bound to attract unwarranted attention. Pretty soon they would have Sages or even angels descending upon them, and she was all alone, which was why she asked Nevan to call for help. Even with the power of the new weapon, she only had one, and she also had to keep her attention on the pit to Inferno.

"Medea," Eva spoke in a calm voice that somehow resonated within her head, bypassing the din of Inferno and Nevan's Wicked Weaves. "If you do not trust me, feel free to shoot me."

That would certainly work, Medea thought. Killing the summoner was the easiest way to abort any summon. She had used the trick herself when she fought a Lumen Sage who had called upon Fortitudo once, back when she was married to Jason. However, it was completely unwarranted and without precedent. What Umbran Witch willingly consigned her brethren to an eternity of suffering in Inferno? It was unheard of. It was against all their laws and traditions, right next to sleeping with a Lumen Sage.

Then again, she reasoned to herself as her alarm for the situation grew with every escalation of noise – someone was bound to hear this ruckus! – no demon had officially claimed Eva's soul yet. The paper was still there, blank and unsigned by an Infernal. She would technically be safe from Inferno and would simply disappear into nothingness, not thrash and scream for all eternity.

The noise escalated for a while until Medea could take it no longer. She had to act now. She pointed the weapon at Eva, and pulled the trigger. The bullet flashed out of the barrel, spinning from the rifling, streaking for Eva's unprotected head.

Unknown to Medea, Eva had activated Witch Time as she fired, and was watching as the bullet slowly made its way to her, as if it were a lover's hand about to caress her face. She smiled as a gray sword manifested from the portal, blocking and guiding the bullet to the ground. The bullet was still spinning when it buried itself three feet into the ground, pushing aside dirt and soil as it did so.

The swordsman kicked Medea into air. She cursed herself for having forgotten to dodge the attack and activate Witch Time. She landed on her feet and kept the gun pointed at the unknown demon. Telepathically, she asked her contract, Shemesh, who this stranger was.

"Oh, him? He's garbage," Shemesh replied. "In fact, you should pity the poor girl because that swordsman is completely useless. She sold her soul for nothing." Still, Medea felt uneasy.

If Medea felt pity for Eva, Eva herself was ecstatic. Here was a demon that suited her, covered in demon's blood, just as she was tainted with the blood of her victims. Demon blood only crystallized when its previous owner died – and he was absolutely covered in it. If her clothes were shimmering red like blood, he appeared to be scintillating red in the moonlight.

The swordsman broke the silence first, and bent his left knee to genuflect before Eva. "I am Sir Sparda." He looked up at Eva's smiling face and her wide, crinkled eyes. "I ask of you; are you my master?"

She nodded in confirmation, and he stood up in front of her. "Then," he said, "we are bound together, until death. My sword shall be your life and your soul shall be my blood." He smiled at her as well, and perhaps if she did not know that it was a demon smiling at her, she would have said that it was an angel.

"And so shall it be until the end of time," Eva replied.

* * *

Further Notes: I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. World-building is exhausting but fun. Also, I misspelled silpium on purpose, because it pertains to a slightly different plant. When I was writing Medea here, I was thinking of Rosa, because Rosa's Japanese voice actor also voices Medea in a certain other anime.

I honestly cannot commit to a guaranteed schedule of writing, so this is technically a one-shot. Again, I will not tease anything coming up so that you have no expectations, but if you have any suggestions please leave a message.

However, if a reviewer gets both of these questions correctly, I can guarantee you that I will write another one-shot.

(Extremely easy) What was Sparda's name as an angel?

(Hard) What is the name of the woman who holds the Left Eye?

Thank you very much! Please leave a review, or like, or follow. It helps a lot.


	2. Swords

Hi, it's me again. I decided to continue this story. Please read and review.

* * *

That November day was cool and the breeze was chilly. Clouds covered the sun, so even at noontime there were several people walking about in the plazas and alleys of the town, newly built a few years ago. One could smell the freshly harvested grain wafting from the marketplace even from houses away. On such a day, Eva and Sparda were walking out of the town into the nearby forest, to find the glade where she would often practice her witchcraft. Their shoes crunched on fallen autumn leaves fallen from the trees. Sparda himself was wearing a black jacket with two columns of buttons in front, a purple overcoat, trousers, and leather shoes. He had gotten strange looks from other men in the town, as trousers were viewed as barbaric back in those days. He stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with his white slicked-back hair and monocle, and the sword on his back. A would-be thief had tried to steal it, but before he could even touch the sword, Sparda turned around and glared at him. The thief ran away, screaming and foaming at the mouth. He paid it no heed and continued walking with light steps.

"Is that the dress you wear downstairs?" Eva asked as they walked. She carried a basket filled with sweet, crunchy apples and other fruits. Earlier, Sparda had offered to carry it for her but she insisted on doing it herself.

"It is my preferred attire," he replied. "I was once a well-to-do man, but I have since been disgraced and stripped of my rank." He sighed. "I hope you are confident that you have summoned me to be your contract."

"I know what I did, and I have my reasons for doing so," Eva said. "It is rare to see a demon that does not boast of their own power – I think you are the first."

"I was a very humble person," Sparda said. "I am sorry," he said, pausing in his step. Eva turned to look at him. His eyes were cast upon the ground, and he was breathing as if he were trying to draw the words he wanted from the air. "I would really rather not talk about it," he finally said.

"I don't mind," Eva said. "As long as your past does not hold you back from your future, then I think we'll get along just fine."

"You are fine with not knowing who you have made a contract with?" Sparda replied, his eyebrows raising momentarily.

"Well, for starters," Eva said, "the reason that I put such a vague contract in the first place was to call upon the demon most compatible with me, and one that was willing to fight others to be with me." She stared off at something in the distance, perhaps a bird, flying away. "You wanted to be with me and I saw that you were willing to fight for it, covered as you were in demon blood. I can entrust myself to you." She smiled at him, sending butterflies into his stomach.

"I see," Sparda replied. For a while, there was no sound but the two of them breathing the cool autumn air softly, as if the two of them were frozen in time. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes – that was silly, he thought. Devils never cry.

"Hey!" Eva suddenly said, jerking Sparda out of his reverie. "The sun isn't going to stay up forever. We have to go."

The two of them walked on, the sound of crunching leaves marking their every step. Neither of them noticed that where Sparda stood a while ago was a black feather.

…

"Well, here we are!" Eva said. The clearing was marked by more orange leaves littering the ground. Birds were singing in beautiful, light tones. The cold air was even colder here as there were no buildings blocking its path. The trees were all so orange it looked like they were on fire as they gently swayed in the wind. Eva started setting down a white cloth on the ground so that the two of them could sit without getting their clothes dirty. When it was done, the two of them sat down and opened the basket to eat some apples.

Sparda had finished his first apple when Eva asked him a question. "I feel that this is important, Sparda," she said. "Why do you not dematerialize and go back to Inferno, like the other contracted beings?"

"Must I really answer this question?" he said, pleading that he wouldn't have to.

"I think so, yes. It's hard to keep you inconspicuous if you insist on wearing those clothes." Eva saw Sparda's face fall slightly and she hastily added, "Not that I don't like them! They suit you very much. It's just that other people don't like what is strange and what sticks out."

"Is that why they were also looking at you?" Sparda said.

"What do you mean?"

"Your bright red clothes attracted just as much attention as mine, Eva," he said with a teasing smile.

"That's true! But they are used to me already. You just stand out a lot more. So answer my question - why do you insist on staying by my side?"

"Inferno holds nothing of value to me. Everything I have and own is with me now," he said. "All I have left down there are a few weapons."

"Well, don't you want to bring those here?" Eva asked.

Sparda closed his eyes, and a sword with a broken blade appeared in his hands. In his other hand he held the other part of the blade. The weapon disappeared. Another weapon appeared in his hands; a long lance, far too long to be held with one hand. This too disappeared.

"As you can see, I can call my weapons to me at any time," he said. "I just prefer to have this one with me at all times." He patted the hilt of his sword.

A glint from Eva's clothing caught Sparda's eye. The silver amulet that she wore on her chest drew Sparda's attention.

"What is that?" Sparda said.

"Oh, this? It's nothing," Eva said. "Just a girl's jewelry."

"Where did you get it?"

"From my parents. It's the last thing I have of them."

"May I borrow it?"

"Okay, but be careful," Eva said. "A lady's heart should not be toyed with!" She said it teasingly, but behind the light words was a grave warning.

Sparda knew that an Umbran Watch contained the magic that would halt the natural aging of a witch. What he didn't expect was to see what the watch was made of. Sparda took a while to examine the watch and to choose his next words carefully. "Do you know how your parents came by this?"

"No idea. But it had another form before it was a watch."

Sparda nodded and handed the watch back to Eva. Some things were better off unstated, but now he knew that it wasn't her soul that resonated with him and drew him to her, but the watch – or what the watch had been before.

"Truly, our fates are tied together now. Your soul is my blood, and my sword is your life."

"Are you going to tell me why you're being so cryptic?" Eva said.

Sparda drew a breath, and then spoke. "As I said before, I would really rather not talk about the failings of my past. Suffice to say, I lost something of mine, and now when I've found it, it belongs to someone else – you."

"You could have it back if you want it," Eva said.

Sparda gave a small smile. This girl was far too innocent, she was almost naive, he thought. If she gave her Umbran Watch to someone else it would mean forfeiting her life, and she should know that already. Why did this girl trust him so much?

"No, I think not," he said. Sparda stood up. "It is yours now. Now, what shall we do?"

"Well, I brought you here to have a little fun," she said. "To train."

"Train?"

Eva rolled her eyes and reached for the long stiletto knife in her pocket. "Now that I am a witch, I am given more power, and I intend to know what I can do with it before going into any sort of battle. I don't want to just find out that I have a special move that could have been useful when it's too late already."

Sparda chuckled. "You sound like me when I was younger." He brought out his sword, a plain, grey thing much like a Roman gladius, but with a more ornate guard concave to the blade. "Tell me, do you know how to use a sword?"

"I have the general idea down."

Sparda used his magic to create an ethereal blue replica of his own sword. "Take this. I need to see how well you do." He handed the new sword to Eva, hilt-first.

"Now, let's set some ground rules," Sparda said. "One, don't hold back. That sword I made can't hurt me. I need to see how you fight to your fullest extent." Sparda held his sword in his right hand and pointed it at Eva from his hip, ready to lash out at any point, like a coiled snake. He set his left foot back and got into his stance. "Two. I trust that you know how to use Witch Time?"

"I do," Eva said, and pointed the sword in her hand at him.

"I won't be going all out, but if you feel threatened, you are to use all of your skill to defend yourself. Understand?"

"Yes," Eva replied.

"Good. Any questions?" Sparda said.

"When do we stop?" Eva asked.

"We stop when I say so. I need to see your limits. And we start when I say go."

Eva turned to her left and extended the sword towards Sparda, much like a gun. "I am ready."

Sparda raised an eyebrow. "If that's what you know, let us commence." He fed an attack, telegraphing the motion beforehand just to see if Eva's response time. He felt his sword deflected as it reached her range and saw that she had stepped out of the way of his strike. An imperceptible moment later, he felt a strike hit him from behind. He turned around to strike her, much faster than he did before, and was surprised when he felt the flat of his blade strike flesh.

"Ow!" Eva gripped her upper right arm.

"That's going to leave a bruise," Sparda said. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Eva replied. "We've all gone through worse in training." Suddenly, she struck him in the chest – or tried to, because she found that he had sidestepped the attack and parried it with his own sword. He was now gripping her right forearm in his left hand, and she couldn't move it at all.

"Good! I don't remember telling you to stop after all. But are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," she said, with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

They went at it for as long as Eva was still able. The hours went by with the sound of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the clashing of steel ringing through the glade. When the sun had begun to set, Eva was covered in bruises all over her body, drinking of the air deeply, and moaning in pain and satisfaction as she lay on top of a pile of leaves.

Sparda knelt beside her. "We're done for the day. Would you like me to carry you back?" he said.

"That would be nice; thank you, but I want to just rest here for a while. Why don't you lie here?" she said, patting the ground to her right. "Ow."

Sparda sat beside her and looked at her supine form, splayed out on the ground. Her long blonde hair and pale skin stood in stark contrast to her dark brown eyes and red lips. She truly reminded him of days long gone, back when he was an angel and had great authority over other angels. Most of the angels in his memories were fair-haired youths, always smiling for the littlest things in Paradise – the sound of a bubbling brook flowing with clear, clean water; the sight of verdant gardens with beautiful flowers of all colors; the smell of fresh, cool air with just a tinge of fragrant incense – he had almost forgotten all of it, sealed away in a small part of his mind that he would never have visited again if it were not for her.

…

The sun had gone and the moon and stars had come to dance in the night. Eva let Sparda carry her back to her house on his shoulders. Since his sword was in the way, he consented to let her hold the weapon instead of putting it on his back. She was admiring the way the sword reflected the moonlight, just a few steps away from becoming a mirror.

"What's this sword called?" Eva asked.

"It had a more formal name in a tongue long gone," Sparda replied. The day he had received the sword was another one of those old memories from so long ago. His eyes glazed over as he recalled the lady who had given it to him. Come to think of it, Eva looked quite a bit like her. He couldn't recall the woman's name, and tried to picture the scene in his mind. He remembered how her gloves looked like as she handed him the sword, still in its sheath. They were white, lined with gold where they ended on her upper arms. He cursed his inability to remember – had being a demon truly erased who he was?

"Sparda?" Eva asked. He had been silent for a few minutes now.

"Ah yes, my apologies," he said. "In any case, you may call the sword the Force Edge."

"Force Edge?" she said. "What an appropriate name for a sword."

"How so?" Sparda asked.

"All blades exert a great amount of force at their edges and points, correct? That is what allows a sword to cut and not merely bludgeon, as sticks do."

"You are correct in that regard." Sparda sighed. "Edges are made to exert enough force to break the bonds between things. The Force Edge is named such because it is the very first and best sword in all the realms."

"You're joking," Eva said.

"No, I am not," Sparda replied, and even though Eva couldn't see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Let's put that to the test!" she said, and immediately slashed at the nearest tree. She furrowed her eyebrows as the sword seemingly passed through the tree without any damage.

"That's always a fun trick," Sparda said. "Watch this." He gave the tree a slight push with his finger above where Eva hacked it. It fell over, crashing into the ground. The trunk below where Eva sliced the tree remained rooted to the ground. "Touch the stump," Sparda said. Eva did so, and quickly retracted her hand.

"That's hot!" she said. She blew on her gloved hand and shook it to cool it down.

"A lot of energy goes into any cut," Sparda said. "But the Force Edge can cut through anything reliably, with the strange exception of other swords."

"If it can cut a tree down as easily as that," Eva said, "why can't it cut through other swords?"

"I have no idea," Sparda said. "I've tried to figure it out myself. The Force Edge can cut through armor, steel, anything, you name it. But it can't cut through swords and other weapons."

"Hm."

The rest of their walk back was uneventful, save for that one time that Eva wanted to cut down a sparrow in mid-flight with the sword ("That requires years and years of relentless training to execute," Sparda said). When they reached Eva's home, Sparda put Eva down, took his sword, put it on his back, carried her in his arms, and then jumped up to her window. He landed inside her room.

Eva yawned. "I'm going to be sore all over tomorrow."

"Indeed you will," Sparda replied. He put her on her bed gently and put a blanket on her. "Good night, Eva." She was already asleep.

He resumed his post at her side, looking at her sleeping form as he had a while ago. He would not fail her as he had failed his duties before.

* * *

I know it isn't as long as the next chapter. You'll see why in the next one. _If_ there is a next one.

Please read and review. It's quite the motivation to continue. Thank you very much!


	3. Gone to Hell

Inferno was far too quiet. The din of screaming sinners, of cackling demons, of the roaring fires that gave Inferno its name sounded too distant, or muffled like they were heard through a brick wall. It was almost enough that one could use the fires as light and read a dry book on the reproductive methods of bony fish on the shores of Cocytus. The demons all spoke in hushed tones about the bloody massacre, leaving tons of crystallized demon blood ready for the harvest beside the mountain of corpses.

Some said that it was a god from another realm cast down into Inferno, raging against the disgusting abominations that were its denizens. Others claimed to have seen the whirlwind of blades that had killed so many – that it moved far too fast and could not be stopped even though it had been struck tens of thousands of times as it plowed through the slain like a pair of scissors cuts paper. Still others claimed to have survived the onslaught, sporting missing limbs and telling the tale of a devil whose eyes held neither malice nor joy as he hacked their sword-arms off, leaving them to bleed out and die. However, none could tell who it was. The being had struck all of a sudden like lightning and left no trace.

Days passed and still there was only conjecture and half-remembered memories of the swordsman. Few remembered who he was – those who had lost limbs had had them replaced with functional metal counterparts, augmenting their strength even further as they swore revenge on the one who had taken their arms and legs away, that they would choke the life out of him as they laughed and spat in his face, _how dare you do this to me you little shit_ , and desecrate his dead body until there was nothing left but a ragged corpse of bones held together by tiny bits of tendons and flesh.

Weeks passed. Demons hold grudges like a paper holds ink. Grudges become a demon's reason to live, just as paper is meant to hold ink. The grudge spread from demon to demon just as ink seeps through paper when enough of it is spilled. Soon, everyone had heard of the swordsman, and he had become a legend, feared and reviled.

One day, the soul of a Lumen Sage fell into Hell. This would have caused much rejoicing among the demons that got first pick of any unlucky soul that went to Inferno. Lumen Sages in general held just as much magical power as their dark counterparts, and thus, their souls were just as appetizing to these connoisseurs. Every demon with enough power rushed over to the sage, muscling their way past opposition to taste the delectable soul, which to a human would be comparable to a five-course meal prepared by Michelin-starred chefs, served with the finest silverware. The first one to meet the soul, a Lord of Hell named Zaroy, had his gaping maw already opened. It was too late when he realized that the soul was still bound to its body.

The Lumen Sage, the current Right Eye of the World, had come prepared for his descent into Inferno. Acting upon the orders of the Laguna, he had been sent to Hell on a mission that he knew he might not survive. And so, with the desperation of a dead man, he jumped into the demon's mouth and brought out his weapon, a thrice-bladed scythe, and tore his way out of its stomach.

Thinking quickly, the sage leapt from his target to the next one, a wide-eyed giant of a demon who couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The scythe's blades tore open his eyes, and the empty eye sockets spilled vitreous fluid as the demon flailed about in pain, covering his face while wailing.

Quickly, the sage summoned an angel, opening a gate directly from Paradiso into Hell. Unlike witches, who make contracts with individual demons competing for power, the Lumen Sages make a contract with all of the Laguna simultaneously, dedicating their life to the light in exchange for the help of all of the Heavenly Host when needed in the battle between Light and Darkness. The angel Fortitudo issued from the portal, unharmed, and ready to deliver the light to the creatures of darkness. Breaths of fire from all three of his mouths singed even the demons who lived in the fires of Inferno. Following him were legions of angels, dedicated to eliminating demons everywhere. Affinities, though they were the weakest in the Laguna Hierarchy, came in the thousands. Even though it was their territory, the demons of Inferno were caught off guard and could not bring their arms to bear, especially when they had just lost a large number of great fighters a few weeks ago.

When Fortitudo had bitten back the demons attempting to drive him back or kill him, the sage called on more angels. The Worships, large flying angels that resembled ships and carried missiles and powerful lasers, came through the gate, bombarding the terrain and making it so that none of the demons had anywhere to hide. Smaller ship-like angels, called Kinships, came with them in larger numbers, firing their own missiles at the demons that were still running around trying to find some semblance of order or command.

Graces and Glories poured out next, quickly and savagely tearing apart enemies who were running away from the fight. The Graces would ward away the demons with their intense flame as they did powerful sweeps with their long claws while the Glories would kill them, running after them in unpredictable zig-zags, with their quick attacks powered by lightning. A Gracious and a Glorious were also said to have been seen on the battlefield, but it is just as likely that this was a lie to make the butchery Infernal forces suffered in their own domain less painful. A few Joys of the Seraphim rank were also seen, dodging and weaving around the attacks of the more skilled fighters and killing them with their multi-form weapons.

If war is hell, then war in hell was doubly more brutal. Demons ran around with no sense of order, screaming their own battle-cries to no avail. Their forces were divided because of no centralized command, as opposed to the invading angels who were coordinated by the Lumen Sage, and diminished because of the many capable fighters gone and dead on the mountain of corpses left by an unknown swordsman. Slowly and surely, most of the demons were picked off, like little ants scattering about on the ground being crushed with a finger, one by one.

Three days of torment by the angelic forces followed. Demons hid in pits and devoured each other to survive. The tormented souls of sinners in hell were "mercifully" destroyed with blinding white light, with no regards as to the weight of their sins. Boulders or feathers, the souls were sent into oblivion. The angels were a light in the darkness. Light comes from fire, and fire burns – and so they scorched everything in their path, sparing none of their divine justice.

On the third day, the Lumen Sage ascended back to the human world, prepared to be taken into Paradise by the angels that he served with his life and soul. The Right Eye of the World would pass on to his successor. The scythe he carried would be passed among the Lumen Sages until it was lost to history, last witnessed in the hands of a sage known as the Inferno Slayer.

It has to be said that normally, Heaven and Hell keep to themselves, interfering only when the other overreached themselves on the human world. The only reason that the Hierarchy of Laguna attacked Inferno before Judgment Day was that they found out through a skirmish between a Lumen Sage and an Umbra Witch.

…

 _a flashback_

The Lumen Sage, Right Eye of the World, flew across the plain and hit a tree. Even with the training he had received to combat the dark witches, hundreds of hours learning to summon and channel powers beyond himself, he was still far too young to face this woman in combat.

"That is enough, Cennan," the witch said. "The light shall not purge the darkness."

Cennan had tried to block the witch's powerful, sweeping strike with her crimson spear using his own scythe, and it had sent him hurtling. When he had tried to strike her down, even when he took advantage of Light Speed, he had failed to touch her, even once. Granted, she hadn't touched him either but she wasn't even trying to attack him and she stayed on the defensive all that time. His nose wrinkled and the side of his mouth upturned as he kicked against the tree, rushing back at the witch like an arrow from a bow. He was getting tired, but he could also see that her dark clothes were starting to get soaked with sweat.

The scythe extended its blade as he swung it, looking like a curve-bladed spear as it reached for the witch's neck. The witch deflected the sage's scythe by jumping above its arc and slamming her own spear into the scythe's body, driving it into the ground. She slammed the butt of her spear into the sage's chest. Stunned, the sage was unable to prevent her from summoning.

" _A GRAA ORS!_ " he heard her shout. He braced himself for impact, preparing a shield spell that would cover his body in a sphere of protection from darkness. But nothing hit him. He stared at the witch whose eyes were also wide with shock. He could see her hair, charged with magic, glowing violet and fluttering in the wind, but nothing happened.

The witch's mouth was also opened, but since it was covered by a cloth he Cennan couldn't have seen that "What? Impossible! _TELOC VOVIM!_ " she incanted. But nobody came.

She was wide open – the Umbra Witch's battle armor was made of their hair, and right now it was waving in the wind, leaving her completely exposed. With no regards to her modesty, he charged, his exhilaration activating Light Speed, and struck the witch, shattering her Umbran Watch and piercing her heart in one powerful, painful stroke.

She died with her eyes wide open, still in shock that her contracted demon would not save her, would not even lift a finger in her defense. Cennan saw her soul being dragged to Inferno by a number of red, gnarled, inhuman hands. He stood by and watched as she screamed and pleaded for help. It was beyond him now – she had been forsaken as soon as she had signed a demonic contract in her blood. He turned his eyes away as her hand stuck out of the ground, grasping for anything that would save her.

"Strange," the voice of Temperantia said, echoing in his head. "We have never seen a witch abandoned by her contracted demon before."

"I had assumed that she had run out of magical power to summon them," Cennan said. "Has that not happened before?"

"It has not, child," Fortitudo said in Temperantia's place. "Demons are obligated to do all that they can to protect their contracts; else either the contract was at fault or the contract has been broken."

"I will have the matter investigated further," Sapientia said. "This is an anomaly that must be solved as soon as possible."

…

A few days passed, and the Laguna had learned that a significant number of demon corpses were rotting in Hell, making a mountain glittering red with crystallized demon blood. The angels themselves were consolidating their power base on the human world by having sages preach to the people about the mercy, compassion, and infinite goodness of God. The Umbra Witches, keeping to the shadows and looked down upon as untrustworthy women no better than whores, could not hope to sway the public to their side as the Lumen Sages did. The worship and emotions directed towards the angels then therefore set the balance of light and dark askew towards Paradiso.

With the knowledge that Hell's forces were recovering from an unpredicted disaster, and the power that they had thus far accumulated from the humans, they were in a position to strike and reduce the power of Inferno even further. Thus, with the self-sacrifice of the Right Eye Cennan, they were able to strike at the very heart of Inferno, dealing such damage that Hell would never be the same. What little beauty there was, if it could be called such, was gouged out of the landscape. Boulders and crags flew through the air, propelled by the blasts that had torn them out in the first place – to this day, they still do. The ground, soaked in demon blood before it crystallized, bore sentient plants that would snap at anything that got close. The fires that gave Inferno its name would burn uncontrollably, never appeased, ever raging.

Light and dark have a way of maintaining their balance even without the intervention of their agents. The accumulation of grudges, of hatred, of sin spilt forth from all of the slain demons. On a cold, dark, winter night in the human world, when the sages were asleep and even the witches were inactive from the lack of moon nor stars, an arm, glowing like magma, burst out of the peak of the mountain of the fallen. The hand rested on the ground and pulled the rest of the body up. Covered in strange, glowing appendages, the formless being shaped itself into a man's figure. Thus the Devil Prince Mundus was born, future Ruler of the Underworld. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, as if to ensure that he could breathe. Then he drew breath again laughed as if he had been told the darkest joke in the world, a deep, booming laugh that sent shivers down the spine of all the surviving demons who heard it. That winter night, Hell froze over.

…

Sparda tensed as if a bucket of ice-cold water were poured over him. Eva opened her eyes and sat up on her bed, looking at him. Her eyes were wide open as well. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can't tell," Sparda said. "By all means, we should be prepared for anything." His hands twitched, longing to hold the sword on his back once more. Sparda took a deep breath and tried to relax, while Eva curled up in bed and went back to sleep.

* * *

With that, I am very sorry to say that I cannot further this story without both the DMC Graphic Artbook (3124) and Devil May Cry Volume 1 (the novel). I am a huge stickler for canon and I need to know what I will be violating if I decide to proceed with this story. Let me list down what I do have: DMC4 (not Special Edition), DMC Collection (1-3, but I will be ignoring 2's canon), Bayonetta 1 and 2 (PS3, Wii U). I do not think it is necessary to get the Eyes of Bayonetta as Bayonetta's verse is already pretty in-depth with its in-game use of Antonio and Luka's journals.

I'd get into a discussion of fluff and crunch, but suffice to say that I love Bayonetta more than DMC because it found the perfect balance - DMC4 focuses far too much on crunch (how the gameplay works, though DMC1 was pretty good with that!) and while the action is more intricate than Bayonetta's, Bayonetta gets me immersed into a world with how it fleshes everything out - from in-universe descriptions of monsters and locations to a good story. Fluff is the reason that I attempt to play Bayonetta with Scarborough Fair / Bayonetta 2 with Love is Blue only. (I've cleared NSIC with guns only by the way, just need to PP the two games.) Fluff is the reason I am so mad at Capcom for not giving the scenario writers enough space to insert good story into DMC4. Fluff makes me care about characters. Fluff makes me write fanfiction.

Okay, rant over. I am aware that DMC3 conflicts with the novel on some parts. I will be taking elements from both the novel and DMC3 later on and my setup needs to be complete. No good writer gets by without researching all that they can on their subject. Wiki pages are too dry for me - I prefer to read verbatim to make sure that there are no inaccuracies.

If there is any way that you can help out, I would be glad to hear it. I will be contacting my local bookstore to see if they can get those two books for me. I hear DMC1 Novel is pretty good anyway. If not, please do read and review. For now, this will be all that this work contains until I get those sourcebooks I cannot continue. Thank you very much!


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